This is It
by TheFoxinator
Summary: Spike and Angel move on. Maybe. Kinda. Spangel-ish. Post-NFA


**A/N**: So this is Spangel... I'm not really a Spangel fan... Oh well. I don't own them in any case.

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><p>"Are we done?" Angel asked, frowning lightly. "Is that it? I remember that not being… it."<p>

Spike just shrugged his bare shoulders. "Well, you used to beat the shit out of me after, before." For someone supposedly so literate, that sentence didn't seem as well put together as it could have been, something that could be attributed, perhaps in equal parts, to the general post-sexy-time feeling and the number of hours he'd spent in the company of one Xander Harris in the past few years.

Spike stretched out and draped himself over the side of the bed, fingers sliding along the rough carpet and then digging inside the pockets of his discarded leather duster. His pale arse stuck into the air, but Angel didn't feel any particular emotions about it one way or the other.

"Oh," Angel nodded, remembering. "Do you want… ?"

Spike scooted back up to the headboard and lit up two cigarettes, handing one over. "Not really, no."

Angel nodded in acceptance and they lapsed into a silence, the room mostly dark but for the little silver moonlight sliding between the heavy curtains and the orange glow of embers.

Angel opened his mouth to say something and Spike tilted his head, but Angel closed his mouth again. He didn't have anything to say.

Spike toyed with his lighter for a little while, twirling it back and forth in his hands. Angel remembered that about his. That he liked to have something to do with his hands. After a few moments Spike placed the lighter on the bedside table.

Angel scratched his knee.

Someone was walking down the hall, soft-footed enough to have been inaudible to human ears. Spike abruptly sat up and started to move to the other side of the bed before he seemed to realise what he was doing, shook himself lightly, and returned to Angel's side.

"What?" Angel asked.

"Smells like his mum is all," Spike said, leaning over the other vampire to snuff out his fag on the table. Angel winced at the scar he knew would be left on the wood. "Forgot what's what."

Angel nodded. He didn't have an ash tray. He should get an ash tray. He repeated Spike's actions.

It was really too bad about the Quor'Toth thing. Connor could have made him a shoddy little ashtray in school. Or… did they do that anymore? He couldn't remember if they did that anymore. He should probably know that.

"Maybe that's it," Angel said, somewhat out of the blue.

Scarred eyebrow rising up in the darkness. "Maybe's that's what, luv?"

"Darla- The girls. Maybe that's what's missing."

"Dunno," Spike said, eyes roving over Angel's body. "Thought we had plenty of fun ourselves, even back then." Angel had the decency to look abashed.

" 'sides," Spike continued, leaning back against the headboard, arms crossed behind his head. "Not like there're any girls hanging 'round here anyways." He only turned his head slightly, mostly looking at Angel from the corner of his eye. " 'les you wanted to invite Illyria." He snorted and gave a little amused grin.

Angel grinned back for a second, before the expression changed into one of contemplation, as did Spike's. There was a long silence, then Angel shook himself from it. "No. That'd… That'd be kinda weird."

Spike nodded heartily. "Right."

Another stretch of quiet.

"Maybe- Maybe we could call Buffy next time, yeah? Have her come down here?"

"From Rome?" Angel pointed out.

"Well- Yeah, right. No jets anymore, huh."

"No more jets," Angel agreed.

"Pity," Spike said.

More quiet.

Spike slid down the headboard, slipping under the blankets. Not like there was much to stay awake for.

"Hey, maybe-" Angel started then stopped.

"Yeah?" Spike was instantly roused again. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking at his grandsire curiously.

Angel looked unsure for a second. "Maybe we could try, like, …cuddling."

Spike gave him a stunned, open-mouthed stare. Brow furrowed, somewhere between shocked, confused, and annoyed.

Then that all went away in an instant and he shrugged amicably. "Sure," he said, tugging the covers out from under Angel so the other could crawl under with him.

Then there were a few awkward minutes as they tried to figure out who's arms went where and just how everything should fit together. And then after that there was waiting. Waiting to find out if this was what was it.


End file.
